


Trust

by Aenorno



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Advisor Trevelyan, Apostate Trevelyan, F/M, One Shot, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, non inquisitor oc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-01 23:35:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13305720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aenorno/pseuds/Aenorno
Summary: Cullen knew where he'd seen the Inquisitor's new advisor before. Piece for the prompt "trust is for people with nothing to lose."





	Trust

“Trust is for people with nothing to lose.”

The first words she’d said to him, somewhere east of Kirkwall in the wilderness miles and miles away from civilization. He was knee-deep in muck, flushed and struggling to control his breathing, having just escaped a particularly determined pack of wolves. His armor stuck to his soaked form and beads of sweat ran in rivulets down his neck. Exhaustion and the rigors of the wilds had darkened the space around his eyes, nights of keeping watch and days of tracking his way to his target.

Now, knee-deep in muck, somewhere east of Kirkwall, he’d finally found her. Trevelyan. The escaped mage from Ostwick, lost in transit from Kirkwall.

“Trust is for people with nothing to lose,” she’d pronounced upon seeing him, an insufferable smirk curling her lips. With a mere wave of her hand, logs and stones reassembled themselves to form a path for him to the shore.

He’d scoffed.

“I don’t trust you.”

Indeed, his sword had never felt more comfortable in his grip as he stared at her. She was clad in black from neck to toe- not one inch of it stained with the muck of the forest around them. A shadow with green eyes, perched upon the bank like a hawk studying her prey. A wind creaked the trees around them, but not a strand of her inky hair moved from it’s place. 

Black hair, he’d been reminded before his hunt. Black hair and green eyes, the greenest he’s ever seen. That’s how he’d know it was her.

Her thick locks of hair shone with the variety of deep blue that roiled in the Waking Sea, not the black of the mud beneath him. Her glowing staff matched her hair, snapping and crackling with restless strands of magic, whipping and whizzing about her aura.

His gut tightened as he watched her, the lyrium buzzing in his blood and bones. He tightened his grip on his shield.

She merely shrugged. “I’m perfectly happy to let my hunter sink and die in mud.”

“You should be.”

“I should be.”

He gripped his sword. “You just told me not to trust you.”

“You just told me you didn’t.”

He glared. She smirked.

He sheathed his sword and hauled himself onto the log. “This means nothing, mage.”

“It means trust,” she countered.

“Even if it did, I have nothing to lose,” he retorted.

She turned on her heel, her sharp silhouette catching the dying rays of the day. “All trusting men tell themselves that.”


End file.
